At the sound of a disapproving “Hmmph! Her boss is right!” Mary Beth turned to a tall octogenarian with upswept gray hair whose knitting needles fairly sparked with friction. “And this is Stella Brickson. Mind you, Mrs. Brickson’s a charter member and a walking encyclopedia on Stony Point lore!”
Tara shivered at the sight of the straight-laced elderly woman with eyes that seemed to bore right through her. But she relaxed a little when the hint of a smile appeared and the white head bent slightly in her direction. A walking encyclopedia. Had she known her mother?
“And I’m Gwendolyn Palmer. But you may call me Gwen like everyone else.” The lady wore a gorgeous silk blouse and a purple paisley scarf caught at her regal neck with a glittering brooch. She was knitting something fluffy and lavender. Definitely a woman of style. Suddenly Tara felt dumpy in her jeans and peasant blouse.
A tinkling bell announced an arrival, and Tara glanced up to see a young woman with short dark hair whip off a pink apron. “I’m sorry I’m late. Every tourist in Stony Point has visited The Cup & Saucer today.” She flashed a wave to everyone around the circle, and Tara could see that her nails were painted purple. They’d go well with Gwen Palmer’s scarf!
“Don’t worry about it, Peggy. As long as you get here, we’re all happy,” Annie said. “And how is Wally, my favorite handyman? I can’t wait to get him back to have a go at my pantry shelves.”
Tara flinched. So this was Peggy. And she was part of this group! Tara tried not to stare at the glossy hair and the well-endowed figure. Someone was introducing her, but she couldn’t focus on what was said as she watched the energetic waitress mould herself into an easy chair and kick off her shoes.
“Nice to meet you, Tara,” Peggy said as she pulled a partially completed quilt of pink and green squares from her tote bag.
Mary Beth linked an arm through Tara’s and said to the gathered women, “I’m going to show our guest where the coffee supplies are. Carry on. We won’t be long. Then we have some business to discuss.”
“Oh!” Tara breathed when they reached the back of the shop. “They’re adorable!” A basket of kittens was tucked into an alcove. A palette of variable color and design, they squirmed and mewled in a fluffy tangle. A tiny black kitten lay rather still but gave her an inquisitive glance before dropping its head like a dark stone. She dearly loved animals. As a child she’d always wanted a pet, but her mother had staunchly refused.
“Their mother gave birth to them in our window well,” Mary Beth said. “Vanessa and I have been taking care of them since their mother abandoned them. And they’re doing pretty well. Even poor little Blackie there.”
Tara longed to pick it up and cuddle it, but it was so fragile. Suppose she dropped it? She felt a pang in her chest like a long-forgotten memory suddenly sharpened. How often had she sat on the faded plaid couch waiting for her mother to wake up? It was a loneliness that continued into adulthood. Yes, she knew what abandonment was.
“It’s all right. You can touch them. They’re too small to bite.” Mary Beth had taken her momentary pause as fear.
And perhaps it was, but it wasn’t fear of the kittens. Instead, it fear of abandonment, of loneliness, of life. And she was frozen on the spot until she heard the sound of coffee being poured into a ceramic mug.
“It’s ironic, really, since we had just decided to run a benefit show for the local animal shelter,” Mary Beth said. “It’s not an official shelter or anything, at least not yet. Carla is just a citizen who takes in animals. Some of these little guys might end up there if we can’t find good homes for them.” Mary Beth handed her the mug.
She took a sip, finding it mellow and sweet with an almond flavor. “Thank you. This is nice—very nice.” She clutched the coffee self-consciously.
“Annie tells me that you used to work for a sign company.” Mary Beth cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, it was mostly signs and such, and I do enjoy drawing.” Tara felt herself relaxing a little. She was glad for this short reprieve. One stranger at a time was better than a whole cadre of them at once.
As though she had read her mind, Mary Beth said gently, “Now, Tara, when we go back out there, everyone will be working on a project of some kind. Maybe you could sketch out a few ideas for our animal shelter benefit. I’ll give you all the pertinent information, and your hands can be just as busy as all those hands out there. What do you think?”
“Sure,” Tara said, warming to this woman who seemed to understand her awkwardness.